


Hungry-eyed and Weather-stained

by betweenfactandbreakfast



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, fun times in the snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:12:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenfactandbreakfast/pseuds/betweenfactandbreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and Finian steal a moment in the snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungry-eyed and Weather-stained

**Author's Note:**

> Dorian must absolutely HATE Emprise du Lion, lmao. Poor little hothouse orchid.

“How do you southerners stand it?” Dorian ground out for about the millionth time since the Inquisition had arrived in Emprise Du Lion. “I had these boots especially crafted to be impervious to the elements, and I can still feel slush between my toes.”

“I don’t think we do stand it,” Cassandra answered. “Look around you.”

It was true- the residents of Sahrnia did seem absolutely miserable.  They’d had some time to look around while Inquisitor had stopped to speak with the mayor, a serious old lady who had accidentally sold the nearby quarry to the blasted Red Templars. Dorian was not sure how on earth one sells a quarry by accident. ‘Oops, my hand slipped and I accidentally signed these property documents’? To be fair, the situation here did seem truly desperate, and he didn’t envy them one bit.

At last, Finian Lavellan emerged from the mayor’s house, attempting vainly to hold a map level against the grasping wind. “So there’s several Red Templar operations in the area, the most important of which is the quarry.” He said, trying to show Cassandra a point on the map, a difficult feat considering the paper was doing its utmost to fly away.

“Commander Cullen asked us to raid Sahrnia Quarry, I believe.” Cassandra said.

“And that will give us an opportunity to save the villagers who’ve been imprisoned.” Finian agreed, rolling up the map decisively.

“I’m glad we’re helping.” Cole mumbled. “The villagers wait, numbed, hearts cracking with cold, for their loved ones… but no one ever returns. One by one they leave, and then never return.”

“Now that we’re all nice and cheery… shall we press on?” Dorian suggested. The sooner they were done in this horrible place the better.

“Yes, let’s.” Finian shoved the map into his pack, slung his hood up over his head, and started walking.

They trudged through the snow, heads bowed against the cold. The going was slow, and Dorian was busily trying to imagine himself in his warm corner of the library, or the sunlit courtyard of his family’s estate in Minrathous, in an effort to feel less like his extremities were about to fall off.

“Maker, I have never seen so much white in all my life.” Dorian griped. “Everywhere I look- white! If we’re not careful we’ll lose Cole in all this. We should have gotten him a more colourful hat.”

“What’s wrong with my hat?” Cole asked.

“Here’s a splash of colour for you,” Finian said grimly, before Dorian could reply. “Red lyrium, see it?”

They approached it warily. It was radiating waves of heat, and Dorian resisted the urge to press up against it. “I guess it takes being this cold to notice red lyrium gives off heat.”

“It’s so _angry_.” Cole whimpered, backing up a few paces.

“Can we just stay here a few minutes?” Dorian asked, sticking out his hands. “Or better yet, bring a chunk of the stuff with us. Portable heat source.”

“No, we cannot.” Cassandra snapped, raising her shield to smash the red crystal into bits and pieces.

“You _are_ a mage, vhenan.” Finian pointed out. “Summon little fireballs, it’s what I’ve been doing.”

“I don’t think my magic’s nearly precise enough for that.” Dorian replied. “I’d burn my fingers off.”

“So it’s easier to make a big fireball than a small one?” Cassandra asked. “I will never understand magic, no matter how many years I study it.”

“Nah, Dorian’s just too flashy for small spells.” Finian explained, slipping his arm through the other mage’s. “He can’t do anything without doing it loudly and brightly.”

Dorian, deciding not to dignify that with a reply, instead leaned into the elf and tried to absorb as much of his body heat as possible.

Once it neared sunset they stopped, thank Andraste, set up camp and went about building a fire. “Building a fire” entailed Cole disappearing into the woods, reappearing almost instantly with an armful of twigs and leaves, and Finian setting them alight with a wave of his hand.

After only a few moments of blissful warmth, Dorian felt an insistent tugging at his sleeve. He looked up- Finian stood over him, motioning for him to get to his feet.

“What?” He said, standing up being the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.

“Come on,” Finian wheedled, pulling harder. “I have something to show you.”

Reluctantly, Dorian stood. Beaming, Finian pressed a quick kiss to his lips and grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the warm campfire. Dorian cast a helpless look at Cassandra (who looked vaguely uncomfortable, as she always did when things like this happened) and Cole (who looked completely oblivious).

They rounded a couple of rocks and climbed up a snowy bank, emerging at the top of a hill.

“Oh,” Dorian said, feeling unusually speechless.

They had arrived at the edge of a cliff, over which a spectacular view of the Emprise was visible. Smoke rose like little charcoal smudges from the patchwork of colour that was Sahrnia, and above it loomed the remnants of Judicael’s Crossing. As far as the eye could see there rolled craggy cliffs of white and grey, stained bloody by the dying sun.

“Pretty, isn’t it? I caught a glimpse through the leaves on the way up and thought there must be a better view nearby.” Finian wound an arm around Dorian’s waist, pulled him close.

“Mm.” Dorian kissed the top of his head. “Wouldn’t Cassandra and Cole like to see this too?”

“Pfft. Who cares about them. They can see it tomorrow.” Finian said into Dorian’s chest. “Besides, isn’t it nicer if it’s just us?”

“I suppose. Still bloody freezing, though.”

“Maybe we should warm up a little then.” Finian suggested with a smirk, and without warning shoved into Dorian with all his might.

They landed with a soft _whoomp_ as powdery snow billowed up around them and was swept away into the wind, Dorian on his back and Finian on top, eyes glimmering in the rosealba light. Dorian began to splutter in shocked outrage, but his complaints were swallowed as Finian kissed him. The cold metal of the elf’s lip piercing stung against his chin, snow was sliding down the back of his neck and under his robes, but a wriggly Inquisitor was rubbing up against him and consequently Dorian was quickly forgetting how to care.

It wasn’t exactly the most dignified or easy time of it they’d ever had, because neither wanted to remove any clothing. A lot of scrabbling and hands shoved unceremoniously under robes was involved, but in the end when Finian rolled off to lie in the snow beside him, both parties were warm, breathless, and satisfied.

They stared upwards silently for a few minutes. The pink sky had given way to deep violet speckled with stars.

“Well,” Dorian said.

“Well?” Finian repeated.

“That was nice.”

“Ever a wordsmith, I see.” Finian teased, sitting up and brushing snow off his back.

“Well, I’ll do you next time and we’ll see how eloquent you are afterwards.”

“Is that a promise?”

Dorian laughed. “I was going for a threat, actually.”

“One does not simply threaten the Herald of Andraste!” Mocked Finian, getting to his feet. “Come on, we’d better get back before Cassandra gets a search party together.”

Dorian stood up too, and they regarded each other fondly for a few moments. A wayward curl had sprung free of the messy bun the elf tended to keep his hair in. Dorian tucked it behind his ear, then leaned in to kiss him again. When they finally separated Finian’s golden skin was even pinker than usual- although that might have been the cold.

“Shall we?” Dorian gestured back down the hill.

“We shall,” Finian confirmed, taking his arm.

And they went.


End file.
